


Silver Bells

by LinguistLove_24



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 11:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguistLove_24/pseuds/LinguistLove_24
Summary: Set 1984100% fiction





	Silver Bells

**Author's Note:**

> ..This is what happens when you have extremely eclectic musical tastes and leave your Spotify on shuffle. 
> 
> Christmas fiction in September.
> 
> Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Silver Bells**

 

“Babe?” 

 

Bill stepped tentatively closer to where his wife was situated in a half sitting, half lying position against the corner of the living room sofa. A hand made afghan haphazardly covered her, and she'd hidden pale arms beneath it to keep from shivering. 

 

Hillary had allowed her eyes to fall lightly closed, but opened them when she heard her husband calling to her.

 

“Hmm?” she said lazily, casting her piercing blues upward. 

 

“I thought you were sleepin',” Bill half smiled as he extended a Tupperware container in his wife's general direction. “Cookie?”

 

“No,” Hillary chuckled softly. “Just resting my eyes. You've been tying into those, I see.” She nodded toward the plastic tub as Bill plucked another sugary treat from the bunch. 

 

“They're good,” he choked out through a mouthful. 

 

She laughed again, eyes sparkling as she reached for one of her own. “I'll have to tell Mum to make more.”

 

“I've no objections,” Bill smirked. Sitting down next to his wife, he carefully placed the container onto the coffee table before adjusting the blanket to more completely cover her feet. “Are you cold?” He ran a hand up and down one of her legs affectionately.

 

Hillary shook her head. “Not really. Just a little chilled, that's all.” Yawning, she ran hands over her face, took in the still half full bottle of Chardonnay and empty glass next to it sitting atop the table as she peered through the spaces between her fingers. “What time is it?”

 

“Just past ten,” Bill said softly. “Chelsea's finally out, I checked on her not long ago.” He cast a gaze toward the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, every branch weighted heavily with decorations and brightly lit with twinkling lights always more beautiful in the evenings. “We can start wrapping now if you want, I don't think she'll wake up again.” 

 

Hillary nodded, removing the afghan from across her body and swinging her legs over the side of the couch to sit up. They'd intended to get everything wrapped earlier in the evening when she and Bill had first tucked Chelsea into bed, but the toddler's mind had evidently been whirring so much she couldn't sleep. She'd emerged from her room three times within an hour, first wondering if Santa had arrived and whether she could stay up to meet him, then for a glass of water. After the third time, (explaining that she very urgently needed to pee to rid her tiny body of all the water she'd consumed) it seemed she would finally settle. 

 

Bill was situated close to the tree, pulling bags of unwrapped toys and gifts closer to himself and sifting through them. Feeling Hillary's presence behind him, he shuffled sideways to make room for her to sink down next to him. 

 

“How did we end up with so many rolls of wrapping paper?” Hillary asked incredulously as she sat down close to her husband, tucking knees beneath her body. There were many more rolls than they would ever manage to use throughout the duration of one season propped up against various parcels.

 

“Probably because you started preparing for Christmas back in July and forgot that you bought them?” Bill smirked.

 

“Shut up,” she laughed, nudging him playfully on the shoulder before pulling a random unwrapped bag of loot toward herself in order to sift through it. “I hope I don't accidentally come across anything I'm not supposed to see in one of these bags.”

 

“You won't,” Bill said confidently. “I already wrapped yours.”

 

“Oh really?” Hillary's brow shot up and she scanned the section of already wrapped presents close to her.

 

Bill shook his head, smiling. “You're not gonna find anything,” he said. “I hid them.”

 

“Oh, I don't know,” she said. “I'm good at finding things.”

 

“Not as good as I am at hidin' 'em,” he laughed. “What's in there?” He tilted his chin toward the plastic bag Hillary had been sifting through and she lifted the objects out of it, one by one.

 

“This is all Chelsea's,” Hillary said. “The Cabbage Patch dolls she's been begging me for, and a bunch of Barbie stuff.”

 

“I can just imagine her face tomorrow morning,” Bill said, picking one of the dolls up as his eyes scanned quickly over the words on the outside of the box. “I don't understand the appeal, though,” he laughed. “Things are so ugly.”

 

“They're cute,” Hillary cooed as she started cutting sections of wrapping paper. “What'd you get her?”

 

“The little pink and white bike we talked about,” he said. “I'm gonna bring it downstairs once everything else is under the tree.”

 

“She's gonna be so excited.” Hillary looked to him with sparkling eyes as she held the edges of paper coating a freshly wrapped gift together with her fingers. 

 

“Here,” Bill said kindly, passing her the roll of tape.

 

“Thank you.” The finishing touches were quickly added and she placed the package beneath the tree in the correct spot before moving on to the next toy in front of her.

 

They went about their tasks in silence for a while, Christmas carols emitted from the radio providing a soft backdrop. 

 

“I love this song,” Hillary spoke up as one song ended and  the familiar chords of  _ Silver Bells  _ filled the room.

 

“Me too,” Bill said as he finished taping up another present. “I can hardly believe another year is almost over.”

 

“I know,” Hillary intoned. “Chelsea's growing up so quickly, sometimes I wish time would slow down. I want my little baby back.”

 

Bill nodded. “I can remember waking up in the middle of the night just to go sit in her nursery and watch her sleep, make sure she was still breathing.”

 

The ruffling of wrapping paper filled a moment of silence between them before Hillary broke it.

 

“She's amazing though, isn't she?”

 

“Don't think I could've asked for a better child,” Bill concurred. “Gets it from her Mama.”

 

“Aw, thanks honey.” She stopped what she was doing, shuffled on her knees to close the space between their bodies before leaning in to kiss him, long and slow.

 

“I love you,” Bill told her when he pulled away.

 

“Me too,” she smiled, standing to stretch her legs. “Should I do the stockings now?” 

 

“They're done,” he said, looking up to her. “I did 'em earlier. They're upstairs in the closet with Chelsea's bike. I'll get them when I bring it down here.”

 

Hillary nodded. “Okay. My legs are stiff,” she said. “I'm gonna peek in on Chelsea.”

 

Tiptoeing softly down the hall, she gently pushed her daughter's bedroom door open wider when she got to it, stood in the jamb watching her.

 

“Mummy?” Chelsea spoke up, and Hillary startled, unable to tell she was awake for the darkness that permeated her room.

 

“Yes, honey?” Hillary asked softly, making her way inside.

 

“I had a bad dream,” Chelsea told her, voice small. Hillary made her way closer to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling her daughter into her.

 

“You did?” she said. “Tell Mama what happened.”

 

“There were monsters under my bed,” Chelsea said. “They came out and tried to eat me.”

 

“Uh oh,” Hillary said, stroking her child's hair. “I'll check under there and make sure they're gone if you want, but it's Christmas Eve. Santa is out flying around, and he's magic. He doesn't let bad things happen to little girls, so I'm sure those monsters aren't there any more.”

 

“Please look, Mummy,” Chelsea begged, and Hillary crouched down onto the floor, peering beneath the bed frame. Though it was dark, she was certain there was nothing to be seen but dust bunnies and a couple pairs of Chelsea's shoes.

 

“All gone,” Hillary smiled when she popped her head back up. Standing, she resumed her post on the edge of Chelsea's mattress.

 

“Will you stay here with me 'til morning, Mum?” Chelsea asked softly.

 

“I'll stay with you until you fall back to sleep,” Hillary compromised. “How's that?” 

 

“Good,” Chelsea nodded, laying down and pulling the covers up to her chin as Hillary stretched out next to her.

 

“I love you, baby,” Hillary whispered close to her ear, touching lips lightly to Chelsea's temple.

 

“Love you Mama,” she singsonged. “Sing me a song?”

 

“You hate it when Mummy sings,” Hillary cackled, brow arching in the dark.

 

“Not all the time,” Chelsea said. “Please?” 

 

“All right,” Hillary relented. “Since you asked nicely.”

 

She began humming off key, random notes, trying to think of a song before recalling the one she and Bill had heard on the radio.

 

...”silver bells, silver bells, it's Christmas time in the city...” she sang softly, continuing the random humming when the rest of the words escaped her.

 

“I like that song,” Chelsea whispered before her breathing evened out and she gave in to exhaustion.

 

“Me too, love. Me too,” her mother smiled into open space.

 


End file.
